A Different 74th
by TheBronzePearl
Summary: What if it wasn't Katniss and Peeta that went, but a girl and boy named Velveteen and Oliver? What if they were best friends? Would they both make it?  My two OC's
1. Prologue

**Author's Noteh:**

**Okay, so the tribs for 12 are my characters, but the rest belong to Suzanne Collins. However, if she would like to me, I will accept them with open arms. I don't own the Hunger Games, blah blah blah...**

**You know what I don't own.**

Prologue~ Present

(Effie Haymitch Jackson's POV)

Dad looks me in the eyes. He's kneeling, and his hands are steady on my shoulder. His dark eyes pierce mine.

"Effie, you gotta promise me that you'll listen."

"To what? Did I do something wrong?" I ask, trying to portay the innocent twelve-year-old I know that somewhere inside, I am.

At this he chuckles. I think he looks great when he smiles. He's a great dad. Mom's a great mom. And I'm so confused.

"No. Just the opposite... But..." He drifts off, sighing. "You're mom's gonna hit ya with some pretty hard news. It's okay to cry. I've told you that, right?"

I nod.

"Good. Because it is. And your mom... She might just do that. You have to promise to be strong while you're in there."

I'm so confused. I say nothing.

Dad opens the door to mom's room. She's sitting there, her brown hair in a messy bun on the back of her head, strands everywhere. She's in the rocking chair, rocking little baby Gwen. She's adorable, and her eyes sparkle like mom's.

She's staring at me, a weary smile on her face. She's probably still tired: she's been cleaning all day. She didn't tell us who was coming over: just that someone was.

"Sit," She says, and gestures to the seat across from her. I gulp, and look back at the door. Dad smiles, and nods approvingly, slowly. So I go, and I sit down.

"Am I in trouble?" I ask bluntly.

Mom laughs, just as rich as dad's- but hers in more beautiful and melodic. She sings all the time to us. She's great at it. Really.

"No honey." She laughs. "Now sit, please dear." And so I sit.

She stands, and places baby Gwen in her crib, gulps, and goes to sit back down. "There was once something called the Hunger Games. It was the worst thing that could have ever happened. Twenty-four boys and girls... They were sent somewhere off the maps of Panem: the Capital wasn't always as nice as you know it to be. They were to be a boy and girl, two tributes, from each district." By now the smile has gone off her face. "And they were told to kill each other, until only one was left." She sighed.

"They were the champion." She stares out the window to the left. "I knew a boy and girl that went from district 12."

"Really?" I ask, not thinking.

"Yeah." She smiles sadly. "Lived down the street, you know. Down the street and around the block. I wrote a story about them." She locks eyes with me now.

"And I'm going to read it to you, because you need to know." She grabs the notebook that every night is right there, on the nightstand by her bed.

"And you have to listen." She clears her throat after she says this, and begins to read.


	2. Chapter 1

**Author's Noteh:**

**Okay, so the tribs for 12 are my characters, but the rest belong to Suzanne Collins. However, if she would like to me, I will accept them with open arms. I don't own the Hunger Games, blah blah blah...**

**You know what I don't own.**

Chapter One~The Day Before the Reaping, more than 15 years ago...

I insert the small plug into the wall, and hit a button on the thing that Mom always called a "CD player".

It says in letters that are straight and capital, 'Please Insert CD', and so I put it in.

A song starts playing, and I go over to the bunch of little kids that we teach music to- Mae and I. It's a ton of fun, just to watch them dance around and smile and laugh. It's worth the time I put in.

I don't necessarily teach music. I'm just the assistant, or, what Mae says, "The most important assistant", but it's hard to think like that. We just want to let these kids continue to know what music is. That's the goal.

My mom used to tell me stories, before they all blew up, about these songs. The one that's on now is one that she said, "Your father and I used to dance around to this song all the time", and then they'd look at each other this look, that I heard was called "love".

I start humming along as the first verse comes along, and the kids start to dance. I smile a little bit, then chuckle, thinking about how Oliver says "The only real time you smile is when you're with those kids, Vel."

"Hey Velveteen!" Says Mae. "Sing!" I sigh, and laugh. Then all the little kids start begging "Please! Oh pretty please!"

And then there's dead silence as the music stops, and then I'm singing along, grabbing one hand of the kids beside me.

"You make me wanna say I do, I do, I do, do do do do do do doo." And we're all laughing. I've been told by a few that my voice is good, but that's just a past time. If I ever get chosen for the Hunger Games-

Don't think about that. I scold myself. That's tomorrow. Today's your day with these kids. Today is the day you have fun.

And then I see Oliver walk through the door in this place that my grandfather once said was a "Gymnasium". He's smiling and laughing, and he walks on over to us, his hands in his pockets. "Hiya Vel," He chuckles.

I break off from the kids, and they're still dancing around, and I walk over to the guy who's been my best friend for who knows how long. Next month is a decade, I think.

"Hey," I smile, putting my arm on his shoulder. He's a little taller than me, but I still like to annoy him by using his shoulder for an arm rest.

"Please tell me Beth's been good." He chuckles, and we both look at his little sister. She's got pretty blonde hair that is wavy and princess-like, and cute green eyes. We don't know how she ended up in District 12. Especially to Oliver's family; like most of his family, he's got almost black hair and dark eyes. But he's got somewhat palish skin. Me, however, I've got simple deep brown hair and blue eyes. Really blue eyes.

"Of course she has been. She's Beth, Oliver." I laugh. Beth skips on over to us.

"Are we leaving?" She asks, obviously not wanting to go, some begging in her voice.

"Not if you don't want to," Oliver smiles down at her. I lift my arm off his shoulder because I knew that he'd do just what he's doing: picking her up, spinning her around.

She's giggling, classic Beth, and then when she's put down, she's still giggling a bit.

I smile down at Beth, and before I know what she's doing, she's pulling my hand and Oliver's into the mesh of little kids. Oliver and I both are laughing. The song ends, another one comes on. Oliver and I are dancing with Beth and all the other little kids, having the time of our lives.

And of course Oliver shows off his dance moves- being the one of the best dancers of district 12- and takes my hand and spins me around. We're both laughing like idiots. One of the things we do best: goofing off. Trying to forget the stupid past. We've both got some pretty bad versions of those.

And I look at him, in his laughing chocolate brown eyes and I could swear I can see that look that mom and dad used to give each other. The Look.

But I shake it off. Ha. Oliver? Never.

When the time's up all the moms are here to pick them up. Soon enough it's just Oliver, Beth, Mae and me and the echoey room is silent.

Mae finishes packing up her things, and tosses the duffel bag over her shoulder. I sit down on the chair, exhausted. Happy. And exhausted. Oliver sits down on the chair next to me.

Mae starts walking out, calling over her shoulder: "Hey, see you tomorrow. Good luck." And she's out.

Beth looks up at us with anxious eyes. "Good luck for what?" She's too pure and innocent- Oliver's mom hasn't told her yet.

"Being able to get up in the morning. So tired!" Oliver chuckles. He was always good at avoiding the topic when something comes up about the Hunger Games and Beth was around. But there's a tightness in his voice.

"Oh." Beth says, and starts heading towards the door.

Oliver smiles over at me. "See ya Vel."

He starts walking on after her, and I call to him, "Hey, Oliver!" And he turns around to face me.

I bite my lip. "Good luck getting up tomorrow too." He nods, smiling just a little bit.

That's the happy days.

Now they're gone.


End file.
